


to touch the sky

by eclipsed (wasatch_97)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Blood and Violence, Boys In Love, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Skyrim, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, Loyalty, M/M, Major Character Injury, No Main Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Protective Lee Minho | Lee Know, Thieves Guild (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Time Skips, assassin!minho, the nightingales - Freeform, thief!jisung
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasatch_97/pseuds/eclipsed
Summary: “You wish to protect me, so do just that. Stay by my side and keep me safe from the harm you fear for me,” Jisung tells him as he pushes closer against Minho’s chest, cheek pressed against the black leather of his armor. “I have no regrets in regards to meeting you and caring for you, so whatever you face we face together. I can’t see you turn and run from me again, you will truly break my heart.”Minho’s fingers sink into the strands of Jisung’s hair, the feeling lulling him into a sense of full security. “I’m unable to guarantee your safety; that is what I fear.”“I understand. But I also know that without you, everything will be incomplete.”
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	to touch the sky

**Author's Note:**

> hello~~ welcome to skyrim fic hehe  
> mm i’m quite excited to post this :D i hope you guys like it, it’s been floating in my drive for forever now
> 
> → it does help to have a little knowledge of skyrim when reading this because i reference a lot of places/people/questlines, but it’s still okay to read if you don’t!! maybe just pull up an image of the skyrim map so you can track the locations :)
> 
>  **cw:** minor violence, implied revenge murder, past child abuse, blood

Jisung bites down on his chapped bottom lip, considering. He’s standing just in front of the tavern in Falkreath, weighing the urge of finding a decent place to sleep in the outdoors or looting a pocket or two to scavenge enough coin for a night spent on the mattress of a true bed. His gut is telling him to leave, to steer clear of Dead Man’s Drink tonight, but on the other hand he is not timid, to survive as he does he can’t be. Jisung can hold his own, but he prefers to stay hidden in the shadows, out of sight. 

It’s how he has always survived. 

With a sigh Jisung climbs the steps towards the door, hearing the noise of a lively night ring through the thin plated windows and from the gap under the door.

When he steps foot inside, he’s hit with the heat of bodies pressing together and the burn of mead hangs heavy in the air. The crowd is large and he smiles; he’ll have no difficulty slipping through the drunken nords and make off with a few coins. 

With reluctance Jisung drops the hood of his battered cloak, knowing that if he keeps his face hidden, as he would like, he will be caught as a boy up to no good and thrown out. With that in mind he makes his way through the throngs of noisy townsfolk, searching, until he spots two men in the far corner of the tavern sharing a laugh and one too many drinks. 

A perfect target. 

Crossing the room he slides onto the bench next to the man, quickly setting himself up. Noting the position of the bulge of the man’s coin purse he slides his hand across the remaining space between them. Just as his fingers are brushing the leather of the man’s belt, a person sits down on Jisung’s other side, making him pull away a little too quickly from his goal. Narrowing his eyes Jisung turns to look at the person who almost ruined his heist, but to his surprise the man’s shrouded face is already turned towards him, obviously recognizing Jisung for what he is: a thief.

This man is lean even with his armor that is colored nothing but the black of night, and his hood is pulled low but when he notes Jisung’s stare he pushes it off, revealing silky black hair falling in front of startling grey eyes. He appears older by a handful of years and his features are delicate, almost feline, with a glint in his eyes that tells Jisung that this man has secrets - that he’s something a little past dangerous. 

“You’ve picked a good target,” the man murmurs, glancing past Jisung at the drunken nord. Jisung has to strain to hear him through the noise of the tavern. “But you need practice, that much is clear, in order to not get, well, caught.”

Jisung’s eyes widen significantly. “What?” His feet are positioned to push him from the bench quickly if the need arises. 

The man leans in and Jisung feels shivers run along the length of his spine when he feels the man’s breath ghost over the shell of his ear. “It’s not wise to loot when you haven’t looked around the place first. Who knows, there might be someone who can see right through you.”

Jisung’s hardly breathing when the man pulls away, the last three words ringing loud in his ear. “I—” His gaze drops to the man’s hands, catching on the shine of the amulet he’s now fiddling with. Jisung’s amulet. How could he have gotten it from under Jisung’s clothes without him noticing? “Give that back!” 

The man laughs, not unkindly, while pocketing the jewelry. His eyes aren’t quite smiling though; there’s a hint of winter chill in them. “Sentimental value?” Jisung narrows his own eyes. “I must have simply offended your skills as a thief, then.” The man is quick to slip a finger under Jisung’s chin, expression softening just slightly as molten heat builds between their skin. “You are a pretty little thing. I hope I will get to see you again one day.”

Before Jisung can do much more than gasp at the touch and the words, the tavern door slipping shut becomes the only indicator of the man ever coming to Dead Man’s Drink. 

As Jisung watches the door come to a still he considers the man’s words and actions. The man seemed to have no issue with Jisung’s attempts to steal, and instead fooled with him in that exact way by stealing Jisung’s amulet he had lifted a few days prior and had planned to sell.

And then he had called Jisung pretty - a simple boy of seventeen years finding his own way in the world by abusing kindness and generosity to make it through to the next day.

Could the man have been a fellow thief? Jisung frowns, the man seemed too…too dark to be a simple thief.

✧✧✧

A long year has passed and Jisung still isn’t sure of what he should do. With no home he’s been forced to bounce around, living in taverns and inns off of stolen coin, continually unsure of his next step. As of now he is in Windhelm, walking the city’s cobbled streets and wondering if the place ever sees the light of the sun.

Windhelm is far from the best place to be, there are killings on the streets often that all stem from a mysterious person who is targeting young women. Jisung can’t help but look for Sofie, the young girl who sells flowers on the street corner, every morning, hoping that she hasn’t been attacked. Jisung wants to leave Windhelm, he’s tired of the snow and depression, but he finds himself too weary to travel further. 

Dusk descends quickly, as always, and Jisung leans back against a stone pillar, watching the merchants in the square finish up their last sales. He’s choosing between the few men and women, noting who had sold the most throughout the day, hoping to pickpocket one for his rent at the inn. A last spiral of sun seeps onto the snowy floor and hints at a shimmer, and when Jisung looks towards the glow he sees the shine is from a knife being drawn by a man. Jisung opens his mouth in horror as the man raises the knife to pierce a woman from behind, yet before Jisung can close his eyes to the scene, before his heart leaks out and reminds him of his cruel past, a dark arrow fletched with pure black feathers slices from the air and buries itself in the man’s neck. 

Jisung watches as the light-struck dagger clatters to the ground from the man’s grasp as he gurgles, dark crimson blood spilling over his lips. The woman shrieks when she finds the scene behind her and jumps away and soon there’s shouting as the man collapses to the ground, the people looking on in the pureness of shock and horror. 

Jisung turns away, the boil of bile sitting heavy in his throat. He hurries away from the scene, worn boots crunching in the snow, wanting to erase the image of the man dying by his own blood and the puncture of an arrow tip from his mind. He wants to escape - to run - to be comforted, but he has no one to go to. He sits down on the steps in front of Candlehearth Hall as his first tears fall, and he hides his face deep in his arms, knees pulled to his chest. He hates being weak - being so, so weak. 

“It’s you, isn’t it.” 

Jisung’s head reels with memories at the voice, his eyes widening as he looks for the call. Standing at the base of the stairs is a man dressed in all black, from boots to gloves. He reaches up and slips his hood off, revealing charcoal-colored hair and delicate features. In the light of torches the man is painted in flickering golds, but somehow even standing in the light the man seems to blend into shadows. 

“You are the man from the tavern,” Jisung whispers in shock, having truly never expected to see him again. Realizing his state he quickly wipes away his tears and hopes that his eyes aren’t too puffy; part of him wants to continue to appear pretty to the man, though they have spoken for just seconds. 

“Falkreath is a long way from here,” the man says, climbing the stairs. “May I?” 

“Oh, yes.” Jisung watches him sit down at his side. “And yes, but I have nowhere to be.” 

“Hm?” The man’s eyebrows raise at Jisung’s spoken words. “Not a good home life?” 

Jisung looks down at his hands, willing the wash of sorrow to retreat. “No home life.” 

They descend into silence, simply listening to the quiet noises the city creates at night. Jisung glances over at the man a few times, but each time he’s looking out, at the city street or the stars. It’s peaceful with him, and though Jisung knows nothing of this man, he feels safer than he has for truly a long time. 

“A man died,” Jisung brings to conversation with a whisper. “In the market.” 

The man hums quietly. “I heard. Did you...have concerns with the man?” 

Jisung shakes his head. “No. It just, it was so sudden.”

“I heard he was the Butcher,” the man says, “the one who has been killing those women. Are you not glad to have him off the streets?” 

“Of course,” Jisung says quickly, “but seeing him die...his blood all over the ice...it was horrible.” 

The man turns and looks at Jisung then, staring right into his eyes like he can see all of Jisung’s secrets. His eyes are heavy with worry and care, but also a flare of anger. “Forget him,” he whispers, yet his voice borders on a harsh tone. “Forget the blood and the ice. They say to never run and to face your fears, but you can. You can run and you can move towards your future without looking back.”

“How long can I keep running?” Jisung blinks up at the man, and his eyes seem to grow glassy again though he wishes they wouldn’t. “I have become so tired.” 

The man purses his lips while observing Jisung carefully, and there’s a drop of pain swimming in the deep grey of his irises. “Travel to Riften. Find the guild of thieves. It will be an unconventional life, but all of the members are running from their fears. They will treat you rough at first, but when you earn their trust they will protect you with their lives.” 

Jisung has considered the idea of going to Riften to follow the tales of the guild but had never planned for it. Instead of giving the man an answer he poses a question he’s pondered since they met in Falkreath. “You don’t hate a thief?” 

The man laughs under his breath, his lips curving up into a tiny smile and there’s light in his eyes. “I’ve lived off of stolen coin before, I’m not one to shame the lifestyle.” Jisung’s eyes widen at the confession. “Go to Riften. You’ll...you’ll be safe there.” 

A faint heat rises in Jisung’s cheeks. Why is this man worrying about his safety? “I will, then. I will go and look for the guild.” 

The man nods, looking fully appeased. “A warning is the last thing I can advise; the leader of the guild is not someone to be trusted easily. Be weary of him.” 

Jisung nods, storing the words to his memories. “You know him?”

The man looks back out at the street. “While I have never been part of the guild I have known a few of the members and have ties with them. I know what they are like, and I know that you will fit well with them.”

“How do you know that I will fit with them?” 

The man glances over at Jisung again, and his eyes are dark with the color of thought. “I know what loneliness does to a person and what types of people loneliness creates. Shadows and sunlight coexist; shadows and sunlight create an equilibrium. You are sunlight, someone who lives to help others grow. That is why you will do well with the guild.” 

“And the shadows? What of them?” 

The man’s gaze shades fully. “Nothing grows in the shadows. In nothingness...there is only loneliness that lingers.” 

It’s then that Jisung realizes. Looking into the man’s eyes, dark as night, he knows the reason for why this familiar stranger is in Windhelm. Whether Jisung has realized it from the man’s coded words or from the arrows with black fletching peeking out of a quiver under his cloak, he isn’t sure.

His question is answered, yet he asks it anyhow.

“Are you a thief of blood?”

Jisung hears the reply in the black of silence.

✧✧✧

A handful of moons pass before Jisung meets the man once again. He hasn’t forgotten him, no, but he has been too busy with his new guild and forming a position for himself to dwell for too long on the man who wields shadows.

He works hard learning the life of a formulated thief, yet at night when he is laying on a cot, surrounded by his fellow members, his thoughts wander to black feathers and haunted grey eyes. He expects to see the man again one day, but cannot fathom when that shall be. 

To his surprise it’s in the Ragged Flagon, the tavern commanded by the Thieves Guild hidden underground, that he finally sees the man once more. It makes his heart jump, his breath catching. “Who is that?” Jisung asks in a whisper when he spots the man sat down at one of the rickety tables, speaking with Delvin. 

“Him? That’s Minho,” Vex tells him, shifting her weight from foot to foot. They’re standing together against the rail, watching the room as they often do when they aren’t busy with jobs. “Illusive. No one is quite sure who or what he is. I would stay clear of him if I were you, though. He’s slippery.” 

Jisung hums softly. _Minho._ It’s a nice name and he immediately associates the man with it. “Does he come around here often?”

Vex shakes her head, white blonde hair rippling. “Not often, and when he does he speaks to Delvin, sometimes Brynjolf. It is no secret that he doesn’t hold much interest or respect towards Mercer.”

Jisung doesn’t care much for the guild’s leader either, but he won’t be caught dead bad-mouthing the man. “Ah.”

Vex shrugs, closing her eyes and leaning back against the rail. Jisung likes Vex - though rough, especially at the beginning of his involvement with the guild, she is loyal and has become a good companion to stick close to. And perhaps her best trait, more so than her skills as a thief, is that she doesn’t ask questions. 

“So. A guild member now, yes?” 

Jisung jumps with a mix of shock and surprise-centered fear and turns around quickly, to be met with Minho leaning against the wall of the hall to the training room, watching him with intent. “Yes. And you?” Jisung’s heart begins to slow to its normal pace. “A mercenary?” 

A breathy chuckle escapes Minho’s lips. “You guess well.” 

“Why are you here?” Jisung asks, twisting his fingers together as he fights to counteract his nerves. 

“I had heard of a new recruit,” Minho chooses to say, observing Jisung closely with a flash of grey eyes. “I thought it might be you. I had hoped you had taken my advice and sought this place out.” 

“I can’t be the reason of your arrival here,” Jisung counters, fighting a blush through his slight scolding. 

“I admit that I came with the intentions of conducting business with Delvin Mallory,” Minho gives, a smile ghosting across the line of his lips. “But I find your face to be more enjoyable than his.” 

Jisung giggles shyly at the hint of flirtation, wishing to hide behind his hands. “I admit I have wondered if our paths would cross once more; though startled I was not wholly surprised to see you in the Ragged Flagon.”

Minho’s laugh is quiet, saturating the space between them. “And I admit that I had wished to come visit the guild sooner, to see you once more. But I have waited for the sake of you befriending the members and settling in, and I see that you have; Vex is not an easy person to persuade to hold friendship with.”

Jisung burns with a heat that matches the quickening of his heart; Minho has wanted to find him here and had spotted him in the Ragged Flagon as Jisung had him. “You speak with a plethora of affection, though we do not know one another,” Jisung says, but with no detriment. 

“I do,” Minho agrees, not holding an ounce of shame. “And do you hate my words?”

Jisung shakes his head just a second too quickly, which makes Minho’s grey eyes crinkle with laughter. “I would truly like to carry on speaking with you, but I have to go.” Mercer’s orders for his new mission ring in his ears, even through the thick mist of giddiness Minho had brought him in just short minutes. 

“Mallory slipped that you have been given the Goldenglow Estate job?” 

Jisung’s eyes widen at Minho’s well of information. “Yes.” 

Minho purses his lips, considering, and then steps forward which causes Jisung’s breath to snag. “Take this.” He holds out a silver dagger, the blade slick and catching the remaining light in the dim hallway. “Gods forbid you need it, but I would prefer you carry it in case something comes up.” 

Jisung looks with widened eyes at the weapon. “I couldn’t possibly...I truly dislike harming anyone.” 

“It is enchanted with paralysis,” Minho tells him. “It is enough to render your target out of combat without fatal injuries. Keep it, Jisung. Goldenglow is a hard run, I have seen the security.”

“Thank you,” Jisung whispers. “But, you know of my name?” At Minho’s light smirk he gives a sigh. “Mallory. To be truthful, I asked Vex for yours.” 

Minho nods once, a flicker of a fond light catching in his eyes and on his lips. “You should go now, it is nearing dusk. If you leave right away you will be at the island by nightfall.” 

“Thank you,” Jisung murmurs, strapping the dagger to his belt. “Will you...will you be here when I return?” He lays down all his dignity to ask. 

Minho smiles a bit at the question. “Come to the Bee and Barb. I will be there until mid-morning.” 

“Okay.” Jisung says with a shy smile of appreciation and excitement. “Thank you for the dagger.”

“Keep yourself safe,” Minho says. “May the Gods guide you.” 

_Why is he so invested in me?_ Jisung questions as he walks away, but when he peers over his shoulder Minho has parted as well, walking towards the exit.

The Bee and Barb inn is quiet when Jisung arrives at just shy of four in the morning. Jisung peers around the low-lit room, anxiety meshing with his excitement. When his gaze falls on a figure at a table in the far corner Jisung feels relief swirl in his chest. 

“Minho?” he whispers when he’s standing just a few feet away. 

Minho looks up and a smile graces his lips. “Jisung.”

“Can I sit?” At Minho’s quick nod Jisung sinks down, sighing once his legs are no longer supporting him. “I am glad we are able to meet before you leave,” Jisung starts, blinking tiredly over to Minho. “Though forgive me, I may not be the best company. Today has been long.” 

“I am glad for this as well,” Minho says, but there’s the slight hint of worry pressed to his features. “I have rented a room,” he continues, smiling at Jisung’s bleary, sleep-softened expression, “and you should take it. To rest up from your job.” 

“I shouldn’t,” Jisung whispers while hardly able to keep his eyes open. 

Minho laughs his quieted laugh as he stands. “Regrettably I must go sooner than expected, anyhow. The room will be of no use to me, so I’m recommending it to you.” 

Jisung doesn’t fight Minho when the man takes a grip on his forearm to assist him as he stands. Minho’s arm then wraps around his mid back to keep him steady, and a deep blush finds Jisung’s cheeks at the touch. 

“I am always asking it seems, but will I see you again?” Jisung asks when they’ve ascended the stairs and are in Minho’s room. 

“I cannot say now,” Minho answers, helping Jisung sit on the edge of the bed, “but I do hope so.”

“Me too.” Jisung takes one of Minho’s hands, observing each callous on his palm and the faded scars near his knuckles. He feels Minho’s gaze, the man staring from above down to him, but finds himself too deep in the folds of exhaustion to refrain from touching the person who fascinates him so. 

“Can I...can I seek you out? Or must I always wait for you to come to me?” Jisung questions, finally releasing Minho’s hand in favor of looking up at him. 

There’s a deepened worry and a heavy grief mixing in Minho’s eyes and Jisung’s chest tightens slightly, knowing his answer before Minho poses it. “Seeking me out is near impossible, and it is dangerous if you attempt to. When I can I will look for you, as your safety is the leading importance,” Minho tells him. He raises a hand to Jisung’s hair, tucking the dark-colored waves behind his ear. “But if something truly goes amiss and you need to find me, go to the Frozen Hearth in Winterhold. There, you will meet a man, Sam, who will offer you a spot in a drinking contest. It is important that you refuse him, and instead ask if he knows of my location. If he finds you sincere, he will answer.” 

“Okay,” Jisung nods, storing away the information. “If I find myself in trouble I will seek him out.” 

Minho looks at him with relief shadowing his gaze. “Be careful, Jisung. Use the dagger if you need to. I am glad that the Goldenglow job went well, but jobs will become more difficult as time passes, the guild will grow to trust you further.”

“I will.” 

Minho hums in soft approval. “You should sleep now. The room is rented until midday, so stay here as long as you’d like.”

“Why are you being so good to me?” Jisung asks through a stifled yawn. “We hardly know each other.”

“It is a question I face as well,” Minho says, his hand finding a place in Jisung’s hair once more. His eyes are greyed to a fine gradient, where the lights of his eyes contrast with the dark tones. Jisung decides Minho’s eyes are filled with mist. “I have no answer, but I know I care for your well-being.”

Jisung knows that Minho is hiding something - hiding many things. Although he speaks words formulated to be truth, there are reasons as to why he has come to Jisung. Jisung feels in his heart that these meetings somehow have not been carried out by chance. 

When Jisung wakes he’s met with the depression of lonesomeness. He had fallen asleep to the colors of Minho’s voice, unthinkingly drifting off when he could have listened to the tones of shadow further. Now he is left alone, in the pastels of the dewy morning sky. He is stuck listening to the cry of awakened birds and is caught viewing the shades of pinks and golds that filter through the thin linen curtain that barely shields him from the rest of Riften’s compressed life. 

There’s a kind of heartache that settles in him when he truly wipes the fog from his mind and realizes that Minho is gone - that the older man has disappeared. That Minho is once again out of reach. Jisung finds himself caught on those needles of pain, reciting his wish to see who he considers a guide once more. It seems unfair to Jisung, that he can’t feel the touch of Minho’s fingers in the thick of his hair again, until Minho becomes the one to seek Jisung out once more. 

But Jisung knows he can’t hold onto his hopes, so he pulls himself to sit up, observing the small room with clouded eyes. Stretching, the sleeves of his too-big undershirt slip down to pool around his elbows. It’s a garment he’d been given by Rune, a fellow thief, as part of a set of clothes he’d received near when he joined up with the guild. It makes Jisung realize that he is truly small, and it had become even more apparent when he sat before Minho the night previous. Jisung is small, and it has its benefits for his line of work, but he’s always felt too feminine - with his tiny waist and narrow shoulders. Where most men are chiseled Jisung is soft - it has always made him feel as if he is something less, that his value is reduced. But somehow when Minho looked at him and touched him, he’d felt a sense of self-worth. That he is precious to the older man, that who he is is who he needs to be. 

With a sigh of lingering exhaustion Jisung slides off the bed, hissing when his feet make contact with the night-chilled floorboards. He pads across the width of the room and bends to open the chest on the floor, checking over his belongings. Everything is in its place, to his relief, but he notices an addition on top. A letter. Brow furrowing, he takes it into his hands and unfolds it. 

_Jisung,_

_I desired to share a meal with you but unfortunately I was called away urgently, before the hour I had told you I was to depart. Forgive me, I hope that next time we meet you will be receptive to dining with me._

_I am glad we have met again and I am glad your mission for the guild was a success; there was no doubt in my mind that you would be unable to complete the task. I pray that you will stay safe, and I will look forward to the day when our paths cross again._

_M_

Jisung gains the weight of a blush on the apples of his cheeks at the contents of the note, the heat of his face countering the shiver that runs down his spine from the cold air hitting his skin all along his bare shoulders where his undershirt has slipped.

Stepping over to the dresser Jisung stands in front of the mirror perched on top, peering at his reflection. He looks tired - there are heavily-colored circles under his eyes and his skin looks a bit paler than normal. He knows he’s overworking himself, taking on jobs from Delvin and Vex while also managing requests from Mercer. He’s trying so hard to fit in and that drive is taking a toll on his body. 

While appraising himself in the mirror Jisung thinks back to Minho, thinks to his words and his glances. How he had spoken to Jisung like he was the most and looked at him like he was everything. It’s a strange sense, Jisung finds, to know that he is wanted. 

Jisung lets himself wonder if the man has ever imagined what Jisung would taste like and feel like. Wonders if Minho has wished to touch him in a less than friendly manner. If like Jisung, he’s wanted to knit their fingers together and spend the early morning hours wrapped in each other’s arms, speaking of their secrets and sharing their hearts. 

Jisung desperately wants to see Minho again. For his company, but now that he’s imagined this comfort birthed from familiarity, he aches for it to become real.

✧✧✧

As Jisung trains with the guild and continues fulfilling jobs for Vex and Delvin, time blurs as it passes. Every day is much like the one before; carrying out a heist usually in the dark of night, to return to the guild and fall deeply asleep as the sun rises when his head rests on the pillow of his issued cot. Soon a year has passed and though Minho somehow stays fresh on his mind, he manages to push away his longing to search for the man and focus on his life.

He has grown quite a stash of money and wishes to buy his own place soon, somewhere he can finally call his home and his home alone. Somewhere where he can hang Minho’s note, his most precious possession, instead of keeping it tucked under his pillow or away in his bag.

Jisung has a plan, and though he may be overworking to reach his goal, he’s making progress. He avoids distractions until he can’t, until he’s caught in a flurry of a surprise. 

“Minho,” Jisung breathes, resting a hand on his chest. He’s standing just inside the tomb, located in the graveyard of Riften. He much prefers this secret entrance to the guild rather than the trip through the Ratways, under the city. “You startled me!”

Minho laughs softly, his gaze drifting over Jisung, with do doubt noticing all the changes from the past year. Jisung knows he has gained weight from having access to food - he has more muscle tone from his work, but is still on the softer side. His once black hair is now a rich brown, courtesy of Galathil who had come to visit the Flagon. He dared not put up a fight against The Face Sculptor, as he knows she has a temper with a scalpel in hand when rejected. 

Jisung allows himself to look over Minho as well, who seems to be exactly the same. He’s still lean and moves with the grace of a feline. His eyes are just as sharp as he remembers, but they soften slightly when he notices Jisung’s stare. 

“It has been a year,” Minho states, and Jisung is hit with the realization of how much he’s missed his voice. “You look well.”

“You do, too,” Jisung parrots the truth, looking down at his feet in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal his blush. “What are you doing here?” 

“I believe you know why,” Minho laughs, greyed eyes glimmering with the coloring of the sunset. “I’ve come in search of you.” 

“I feel honored,” Jisung plays, smiling up at him. “I have to say that I have missed you.” He bears his heart. “Four seasons have passed since I last saw your face.”

Minho nods, a look of guilt coloring his features. “Forgive me, I have been called away for too long.” 

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m simply glad to have you here now.” Jisung pauses, “Unless you are here on business, not leisure?” 

Minho’s laugh carries to the place where Jisung’s heart beats his feelings. “This time I have come to visit you, and no other.” 

Jisung, unsure and carrying heavy embarrassment stutters out a shy answer, to which Minho smiles with the appearance of fondness. 

“The Bee and Barb,” Jisung finally forces out, “should we go there for drinks to catch up?” He wants to ask when Minho has to leave, but can’t make himself speak the question that will bring him sorrow. 

“That sounds wonderful,” Minho says, but his eyes flicker with worry for the plight he has read off of Jisung’s face. “Shall we?”

The inn is surprisingly empty for any evening; only a handful of people are drinking and chatting. Jisung finds a table to sit at that is pushed up against a wall opposite the main door while Minho goes to Keerava, the innkeeper, to acquire drinks. It isn’t long before he is back with two mugs, setting one down in front of Jisung and then sitting across from him, taking a drink of his own. 

“Thank you for this,” Jisung says, raising his mug. 

“It is my pleasure,” Minho verses, smiling the sun at Jisung. 

“Minho?” 

Jisung turns in sync with Minho, frowning when they come to face Sapphire, the guild member who spends most of her time at the inn. The woman has taken steps towards them, peering at Minho with widened eyes. 

Jisung doesn’t know Sapphire well; he knows the brief explanation of her background and agrees that it is horrible, that no one should have gone through what she had. But he has no clue what she is truly like. Sapphire is beyond guarded and attacks with weapons or words before she can be harmed herself. She is fierce and though Jisung knows she doesn’t have a bad heart, he is intimidated deeply by her and has never tried to befriend her. 

But how does Sapphire know Minho? Enough to call for him in the midst of an inn?

“Sapphire,” Minho laughs, standing and stretching out a hand which she takes, much to Jisung’s shock. Jealousy bites him as Minho guides her to the seat next to Jisung. “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been well, same as always,” Sapphire says, ignoring Jisung’s presence. “It has been years since I have seen you, I’ll go to Mallory to find that you have come and gone without seeking me out!” 

Minho is smiling in color and Jisung’s chest constricts, a frown tugging down the curves of his face as he watches them interact. “Forgive me; I have been busy as of late.” 

Sapphire rolls her eyes. “Bullshit, Minho. I know better than anyone that you do whatever the hell you like, with no time limit.” 

Minho ghosts a smile and a laugh, but his eyes darken to coal for the briefest of moments. “I tell the truth; rules and restrictions have been set and I have no say. Though I am good at what I do, I am not the one who chooses our paths, or who seems to enjoy playing a God as of late.” 

Sapphire’s expression evolves to concern. “Has she become that terrible?” 

Minho adjusts his eyes down. “She has never been terrible; simply greedy for power. I admire her for her will, yet I know that her choices will bring about her downfall.”

“Soon, do you think? Has she reached that point?” 

Minho’s expression deepens into a look of sadness, causing Jisung’s heart to drop. Whoever they are talking about has impacted Minho greatly, in what Jisung feels to be more ways than one. “It will be soon. Soon she will face the consequences of her actions and pay for them; I have no doubt that the payment will be her life. She has called for too much, and He will only allow her to do so much.” 

Sapphire shakes her head, a sigh escaping her. “I can’t say much; I just wish you luck, Brother.” 

The familiarity of the title makes Minho smile. “And still you call me that.” 

She nods, grinning lopsidedly at him. “I should be going, I am expected at the guild soon.” At his nod she offers Jisung a goodbye and pats Minho on the shoulder as she passes by. 

“Please forgive me if you’ve felt excluded,” Minho says, appearing guilty. “Sapphire and I have known each other for quite some time but haven’t had the ability to catch up in several years.”

“I’m glad you were able to meet once again,” Jisung chooses to say, but doesn’t do a very good job at masking the jealousy in his voice, so he hides behind his mug. 

Minho’s face darkens with his unhappiness and when Jisung sets down his drink he raises a hand to brush along the plush of Jisung’s cheek. Jisung burns pink to red, peering up at Minho with confusion and embarrassment, but not pushing him away. “I have come to be here with you, I won’t forget that again,” Minho says, his fingertips cool against the flame of Jisung’s cheek. 

“Don’t apologize to me,” Jisung chides, finally feeling Minho’s hand drop away and resisting the urge to call him back. “It’s fine.”

“It isn’t in your eyes,” Minho says, and Jisung winces, hating his emotions that have betrayed him. “Tell me how you feel, please.” 

Jisung fiddles with his fingers, to which Minho reaches across and takes his left hand. “Let’s go elsewhere,” he suggests to Jisung, standing and carefully tugging him up. Jisung lets himself be pulled from his seat and catches up to Minho’s side, noting with a shy smile that Minho still has a gentle hold on his hand. 

They walk through Riften, the city shadowed for the most part from the thick blanket of dark night. At some point Jisung frees his hand and tucks it into his pocket, feeling too conscious. From the corner of his eye he sees the slight disappointment pass in Minho’s eyes, but soon it has disappeared and his expression is anything but out of the ordinary. 

They pass Honorhall Orphanage and to Jisung’s surprise Minho focuses in on the building. He seems about to speak when the door opens and Grelod, who runs the place, steps out. Jisung can do no more than blink before Minho has shifted him to his other side so he is blocking Jisung from the woman as they pass. He himself ducks his head and hurries them along, towards the docks. Once they are on the other side of the doors does he finally slow, his hold on Jisung’s far upper arm loosening. 

“Forgive my actions,” Minho says, his eyes glinting with the light of the few torches lit on the fishery. “But I must ask you to promise me something, Jisung.” There’s seriousness in his voice that Jisung has never heard, and he nods, knowing his trust in Minho to guide him safely. “Never go near that woman, please,” Minho instructs in the softness of a whisper. “There isn’t much I can tell you; yet I ask for your trust. Never come into contact with her, and stay far away from the orphanage.” 

Jisung, though confused, can only nod. “If that is what you wish, I will do so.” 

Relief paints Minho’s features, and Jisung’s heart warms. “Thank you, Jisung.” 

“Of course,” is Jisung’s reply. He decides not to question, and instead leads Minho down the main platformed dock to the lower where the smaller boats are tethered. They sit cross-legged, and Jisung feels at peace under the light of the stars. “To be truthful I was jealous at the inn,” he says, shy and unable to meet Minho’s gaze that he feels on the side of his head. “I was jealous of the connection you two had; that you had something in common to discuss. That you know each other. My envy grew because you and I know practically nothing of each other, though I wish to know you so badly.” 

“Jisung.” Minho’s voice is laden with concern. “I live a life of secrecy. I will never be able to give the details that are my truth.” 

Jisung feels disappointment, but holds strong. “Tell me what I can know. And then it will be decided whether I want you to stay around me.” 

Minho’s smile is so fond when he fixes the hair slipping out from under Jisung’s hood. “I am twenty-eight years of age and I work as a mercenary, though I don’t work like the average hired thug. I am often on the road for many days but I love travelling through Skyrim; of all the holds I prefer the Rift. In the fall the leaves are so pretty here.” 

Jisung draws his knees to his chest, looking up at Minho with what he knows are eyes bursting with excitement. “I’m nineteen this year, and I am quite obviously a thief.” He gains a chuckle from Minho and he feels like flying. “I was orphaned and that was the reason as to why we came across each other in that tavern; I wandered as I had no family and no home to return to.” 

“Is that all I get to know about you, Jisung?” Minho teases, smiling eyes curved upwards. 

“For now,” Jisung quips, grinning back. He stands with a sigh, Minho following with surprise in his eyes. “Follow me.” 

Jisung leads Minho towards the Fishery, only coming to a halt when they are both submerged in the shade cast by the building, out of view of the guards who patrol the walks. Pushing at his sleeve, Jisung slips off the emerald ring he wears on his second finger and gestures for Minho’s hand. 

“What is this?” Minho asks with true curiosity as Jisung slides it onto his finger. 

“A gift from a thief to one retired,” Jisung responds, smiling cheekily. “It came from one of my first missions from the guild.” He feels doubt build in him but forces it down to the pit of his stomach. “I suppose I’m asking you to think of me when you see it?” 

Minho’s eyes are widened with endearment, and Jisung can do nothing but hold his breath as Minho’s grey sight filters across every inch of his face. “Jisung…” His name is called so quietly that Jisung hardly realizes Minho has spoken until he finds a hand at his waist and another brushing his bangs from his eyes. 

Jisung raises his hands to rest over the black leather at Minho’s shoulders. His heart has picked up and he doesn’t know what to expect; but at the same time he does. 

And it takes no words, just finding trust reflected between their eyes, that leads Minho to tighten his hold on the worn leather of Jisung’s guild armor and lean down to match their lips together. 

Jisung’s heart flutters and bursts, his eyes falling closed as the pressure of Minho’s lips press to his. It’s gentle and soft and so warm and Jisung has never felt so at peace with his joy collecting in someone else’s hands. 

And then the chill hits. 

Minho draws back and his hands are shaky against Jisung. His eyes flash with hurt and fear, which are so opposite the happiness and peace Jisung is drowning in. Jisung opens his mouth, about to question Minho’s apparent worry, but Minho withdraws his hands and has taken a step back before Jisung can speak his first word. 

“I’m sorry,” Minho says in a breath, “I shouldn’t have...I’m so sorry.” Horror fills his eyes when he glances to Jisung to gauge his expression and Jisung feels the walls of his heart begin to crumble. 

And further they fall when Minho turns on his heel after throwing Jisung one last damaged look, hurrying away into the dark without another word. 

Jisung wants to laugh and wants to cry; emote his misfortunes in whatever way he can. He should have expected something like this to happen, as Minho is far from his equal footing.

✧✧✧

Jisung doesn’t let himself cry. He doesn’t let himself process his grief, and instead pushes it aside in favor of picking up work.

He catches himself wondering sometimes why he is so drawn to Minho. Is it the mystery he’s attracted to? But the way Minho treats him and speaks to him is what he values close to his heart. Jisung is confused; confused and suddenly so very lonely. 

Jisung takes a job from Mercer that leads him up through Falkreath Hold to Whiterun Hold, where he visits the central city itself. The job he carries out is lifting some trade documents from one of the clan families, that Mercer plans on selling to a different clan, as he always is looking to cause conflict. Jisung doesn’t argue with his ethics, though, not when the trip gets him away from his memories with Minho in Riften. 

After sneaking into the house of Clan Battle-Born and retrieves the documents, all within the early morning before the sun graces the sky, Jisung finds himself wandering the road outside of the city, walking past the farms where wheat is growing tall and cows mill about. As the sun rises he lets himself finally think, lets himself ponder why exactly Minho fled from him so abruptly. 

Deep in his chest Jisung knows it isn’t his fault; with the way Minho conducts himself it’s clear he has a fondness for Jisung, but something is blocking him from experiencing his emotions to the full. But still, Jisung feels like he has done wrong. 

He buries himself in blame as he walks back towards the Bannered Mare, pointing out the moments where he had been too forward and spoke of his attachment to Minho. When he steps inside of Whiterun’s inn he feels like crying; his own thoughts too harsh for him to bear. He makes for the stairs, wanting to be out of sight in his rented room before the tears finally fall, but before he can reach the landing he hears a call of his name. 

A familiar voice he hears echoing in his head. 

When he turns around his gaze easily drops to the base of the stairs where Minho stands with one hand on the rail, staring up at him with glazed eyes. It becomes a war; who will look away first. Jisung can see the desperation haunting the planes of Minho’s face, but still he doesn’t speak, waiting for Jisung to decide their fate. 

And Jisung is so, so weak for the grey of his eyes. 

“Come with me.” 

Jisung sits on his allotted bed while Minho stands in front of him, shifting foot to foot. A sense of relief is strong within him now that Minho is within reach, but yet there is a divide yet to be patched. With a breath, Jisung forces himself to start the explanation. “How are you here? In Whiterun, in this inn?” 

Minho watches him as if he is calculating every inch of his hardened expression. “I went to Riften but you had already gone. I was fortunate enough that Delvin told me of your route.” 

Jisung blinks in thinly veiled surprise. “You’ve followed me here?” 

Minho nods, and he suddenly appears guilty, like a child who has broken something important and is waiting for their sentence. “I needed to apologize for my actions properly, and explain why I ran. Only then can I beg for your forgiveness.” 

Jisung shakes his head, horrified with the idea of Minho begging for anything from him. “The only thing I wish to know is why you left me so easily; it was cruel on my mind and heart, about that I cannot lie.” 

Minho’s head drops in what is so clearly deep shame and Jisung’s chest tightens, hating to see the man in this state. “The life I lead is dangerous - even more so for the people I grow close to. I never want you to be harmed because of me, so I ran. I thought that I would keep you safe by holding you at arms length, from staying away.” Minho looks up and Jisung finds that the grey mist of his eyes has turned heavy to cast a look of depression over his features. “It’s been not two weeks and I’ve found my way back to you once more. I’m incapable of being far from you and it is nothing short of terrifying.” 

He raises a hand to run through the ink-colored strands of his hair and Jisung sees the glint of the emerald ring he had gifted him, and a pang of joy warms his chilled heart. “Do you regret us?” Jisung asks, gesturing in the space between them. “Me?” 

Minho shakes his head with lips pulled to a frown. “I will never regret meeting you. But I am unsure of your safety if I stay around you.” 

Jisung feels Minho’s breath catch when he stands and steps up to the older man and wraps his arms around his waist. Minho breathes out his name but when Jisung shows no chance of them parting, Minho rests a hand on the dip of his waist and the other comes to rest cradling the back of Jisung’s head, brown locks silky to the touch. 

“You wish to protect me, so do just that. Stay by my side and keep me safe from the harm you fear for me,” Jisung tells him as he pushes closer against Minho’s chest, cheek pressed against the black leather of his armor. “I have no regrets in regards to meeting you and caring for you, so whatever you face we face together. I can’t see you turn and run from me again, you will truly break my heart.” 

Minho’s fingers sink into the strands of Jisung’s hair, the feeling lulling him into a sense of full security. “I’m unable to guarantee your safety; that is what I fear.”

“I understand. But I also know that without you, everything will be incomplete.” 

“Jisung…” 

Jisung looks up at Minho, his lips stretching with a smile of soft emotion. Minho stares back at him with equally gentle eyes, all the stars stolen from the blanket of night caught in the clouded grey. “Stay with me? This one time? I am so tired but want to continue like this, in your arms.” 

Minho’s face changes to contemplation but there’s no more than a few seconds of cruel silence before he nods. “I have less time than I wish,” he tells Jisung with a look of annoyance coating the shade of his eyes. “I’ve taken too long searching for you and the time I was given is coming to a close.” 

Jisung feels the grief, but buries it behind a smile. “Whatever time I’m given to hold you I will easily take.” 

“Then so be it,” Minho laughs, stepping out of Jisung’s hold and sitting on the edge of the bed when Jisung has slid under the furs, relaxing into the mattress as he revels in being in his underclothes instead of the normal armor of the guild members. 

“You won’t join me here?” Jisung asks, feeling the strings of exhaustion loop around him and drag him towards the edge of slumber. 

At the plead in his eyes Minho smiles and lays on his side, chest towards Jisung. He rests above the furs and is still in full dress, but the thoughts of his discomfort slip from Jisung’s mind when Minho’s fingers brush along his cheek and weave through his hair, drawing his eyes shut. 

As the minutes pass that are filled with Minho’s gentle affections, Jisung draws ever closer to sleep. Though bordering the edge, he still feels the press of lips against his forehead and feels the body shift from the bed. He opens his eyes to slits, as far as they will go, and sees Minho stretch out his arms with a tired sigh. When his sleeves pull up Jisung spies reddened and raised scars wrapping around both his wrists, but he is too far towards slumber to call out for Minho. He can only watch Minho reach for the bow he had placed in the corner and glance back to him once more before exiting the room with silent footsteps. 

Jisung is asleep before he can see Minho slip back into the room and cross to open the window, giving Jisung one last kiss on the cheek and then sliding through the open frame and onto the first floor roof, shutting the window behind him.

✧✧✧

When Jisung arrives back in Riften there’s a strange air about the city. Something is wrong, he notes, but at the same time his heart feels at peace. Walking into the marketplace he stops in front of Madesi’s booth, smiling at the Argonian.

“Ah, Jisung, what can I do for you?” Madesi asks, leaning towards Jisung on his elbows. 

“Something seems off,” Jisung says, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to place his concern. “Did something happen recently?” 

“Grelod, the old lady over to the orphanage, she was killed a few days back,” the jeweler explains and Jisung gasps in surprise. “The children that came out of there told stories that she was truly cruel to them and deserved to die, the whole affair was a mess.” 

Jisung can’t help but think back to the time he had walked with Minho past the orphanage and Minho had warned him so harshly. “Do you...do you know how she died? Are they sure it wasn’t from age?” 

Madesi shakes his head, all seriousness. “It’s said she was shot with a single arrow, black, to the neck, which meant she probably didn’t die right away. When she was found the end of the arrow was missing, whoever killed her must have wanted to hide the fletching they used. It’s probably a signature.” 

Jisung feels his throat burn in disgust, the horror of his family’s death creeping back into his mind’s eye. “Thank you for telling me,” he whispers, nodding to the Argonian once more before stumbling off. 

He had pieced together that Minho had killed the Butcher. He had seen it himself; he had seen the black arrow. Could Minho have...could he have killed that woman? 

Jisung finds himself having to know, and he makes his way towards Honorhall. On the porch he sees Maven Black-Briar, the money backing behind the orphanage, yelling at the young woman who had worked under Grelod. Knowing he can’t sneak past them, Jisung slinks around to the side until he spots a window at the back of the building. He tries the latch and sighs in relief when it easily swings open. Boosting himself through, Jisung lands in what he assumes must be Grelod’s room. 

The room is sparse; there’s a large bed and a dresser, upon which rest a pile of papers. Not knowing where to start Jisung makes his way to the dresser and rifles through the pieces of parchment that resemble letters, the majority being from Maven. 

He is set to give up when he nears the bottom of the pile, but before he gives up he finds a carefully folded piece of parchment sealed with what seems to be a detailed skull imprinted into the blood red wax, a skull that Jisung swears he has seen before. The seal is already cracked so Jisung unfolds the parchment, eyes falling to the sloped writing. 

_Grelod,_

_It has been years since we have spoken, but it has finally come time for me to contact you once more. I write to tell you that of all the cruelty I have seen in this world, nothing compares to you. For that title I give you a gift, something to linger in your mind from here on out._

_I am not the weak child I once was. I will never beg for forgiveness from you like I did so many times, hoping to save my friends and myself. So I warn you this once; I will kill you._

_Soon I will kill you and liberate this world from your cruelty. I will spill your blood and thank the Gods for bringing justice to Tamriel. So, live your last days in fear, as I always did. I curse you to your sentence; one that is only fair for what you have done to me and to all the others._

_M_

Jisung feels sick when he reaches the last words of the note; for too many reasons. He has heard that Grelod did not have the best reputation, but nothing that cried to commit her to oblivion. But what presses down most on his heart is the handwriting and signature he can’t help but place. 

Minho. 

Minho wrote this; Minho truly killed her? Jisung is horrified, he hates the idea that the man he so admires could commit such a sin. Yet, things seem to not quite fit; the hate Minho holds in the letter is so strong that it can’t be unwarranted. 

Pocketing the note Jisung closes the drawer and turns to exit the room, crossing from Grelod’s quarters to the room beside after checking for the room to be in the clear. 

When he steps inside the new room he gasps, the door handle slipping from his hand as he covers his mouth in horror. The room is small and holds no light, save for the color cast upon the floor from the partially opened door behind him. On opposite walls are boards that run the length, metal cuffs attached. There is a bucket in the corner and the room reeks of urine. 

Jisung feels his tears before he can place them, finally understanding. Minho must have been an orphan here; must have lived under Grelod’s cruelty. Jisung begins to quiver at the memory of the raised scarring in rings around Minho’s wrists, which correlate plainly to the metal of the cuffs here in this room. 

Jisung is shaking so terribly that when he jumps from the window back in Grelod’s room he lands hard on his side. He lays there, in the dirt, wondering why someone could ever be so cruel to a child; to Minho. 

He can’t bring himself to think about his Minho, locked in a blackened room with his arms pinned above his head, wrists cut and bleeding from the metal and sick from days spent without light, sitting in his own waste.

Minho, buried deep in the shadows.

✧✧✧

“Your body count is low,” Veezara chortles, his scaly smile drawn wide. “I have a lead on you. _Arnbjorn_ has a lead on you.” The werewolf growls lowly from the corner of the room at the call of his name. “And yet you have been away from the Sanctuary for quite some time. How goes your life, Minho?” The Argonian looks all too pleased with himself.

Minho sneers, about to retort with his own dislike for Veezara, when Cicero chimes in. “Cicero thinks Minho has done nothing wrong, he is just simply resting. Cicero likes Minho, don’t fight with him, lizard.” 

“Of course you do,” Gabriella sniffs from where she is sat in a plush chair, skimming over the pages of a book set in her lap. Her hood is pulled low, like always, hiding her elvish features. “You like anyone who gives you the time of day.” 

Cicero throws his rag down that he had been using to polish the Night Mother’s bones, and crosses his arms as his jester’s hat jingles. “Cicero believes you all to be fools. Mother is the trust of this place, yet no one looks at her!” He pushes the upright coffin’s doors open further, and Minho sighs as he views the skeletal Mother. As always, he hears her voice in the back of his mind, chiding him for not completing his task. The Task. He frowns at her meatless face. 

“We have all seen the Mother, as you show us more than daily,” Babette complains, ruffling the skirt of her dress. “We all know the legend of her and our Dread Father Sithis, and the fates of her five children born to Sithis’ name. We know how she killed the five to earn his favor.” The vampire’s child face is taught with annoyance. “And we all know you will never be the Listener, you will never hear her voice as long as you live, just like the rest of us.” 

Minho closes his eyes and he hears Nazir groan from beside him at the table, the Redguard man as equally exhausted with the Brotherhood’s agents. 

“The Mother will speak to Cicero! Cicero is the one who has been at her side!” 

Minho lets the argument fade away into the buzz of the static in the back of his mind. He wonders what would happen if they were to find out the bride of Sithis gave him the title of Listener; that she speaks to him and gives him secretive and highly important assassination contracts that Astrid, the Brotherhood’s leader, would invalidate the second she saw them. 

“Not going to join in on the argument?” Veezara teases as a question, eyes glinting in superficial amusement. “I assume you have been too busy to get into a good fight, as you have that pretty boy thief on your arm.” 

Minho keeps his shock buried as he turns to meet the Argonian’s devious smile. He’s glad that no one seems to have heard the words; Cicero’s yelling taking up all of the free air in the room. Minho should have expected that someone from the Brotherhood would have tailed him, after all Astrid is keen to keep a close eye on him. “I’d warn you to stop speaking now, Veezara,” Minho growls, grey eyes narrowing to slits. 

“I should go interview your little toy, see what he thinks of your particular method of making coin. Or have you forgotten that part of yourself in favor of a nice body?” 

The words have hardly left the Argonian’s mouth before Minho has him in a hold, one knife pressing into his armor at the base of his spine and the other positioned at his neck. “You going to kill me?” Veezara chokes out, the movement making the knife cut into his scales at the mid of his throat, dark blood catching on the smooth metal of the blade. 

“Minho, Veezara, step apart.” Minho knows the voice, knows that the room has turned to silence, knows that all eyes are on him; the man who is usually silent, who never gets into altercations with the others. “Minho!” 

He wants to laugh at Astrid’s impatience.

Instead, he leans close and hisses into Veezara’s ear. “I’m not made blind by passion, I know what I am. A member of the Dark Brotherhood, a man with secrets. An assassin serving Sithis like the rest of you. So never speak like you believe you know all of me. And if you make the mistake of going near that thief again I swear to the Dread Lord and Lady Death I will tear your scales off one by one, then string you up and gut you alive. Understand?”

**Author's Note:**

> (“i’ll gut you like a horker” - every single fucking bandit,,, i usually play as a khajiit so it’s most commonly “you’ll make a fine rug, cat” which i take offence to) hi yes i’ve played this game too much  
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